


In Exchange for My Love

by TheAzureAegis



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, One shot?, READ THE DAMNED TAGS, Sadness, Seriously a lot of sadness and angst, Unfortunate Circumstances, Witches, Your heart may really hurt after reading this, okay?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 12:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAzureAegis/pseuds/TheAzureAegis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You idiot!”  Derek tried to contain the discontentment, the disappointment—the pain in his voice.  “Why would you do that?  Do something so stupid!  Why Stiles!” He slammed his hand on the counter in front of him hard enough to crack the granite counter top.</p><p>But it didn’t matter, not anymore.</p><p>Because Stiles was staring back at him with a blank expression completely devoid of anything— completely devoid of everything and it was his entire fault.</p><p>Derek has to fix this.  He just has to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Exchange for My Love

**Author's Note:**

> So chatting with Caristia and this idea/prompt popped into my head. Written at 3 AM in the morning. It's kind of morose. LOL. Unbetaed. Title by the suggestion of Caristia.
> 
> As of 11/25 I went over this and fixed a few things, should be more readable and hopefully better overall :).

“You _idiot_!”  Derek tried to contain the discontentment, the disappointment—the pain in his voice.  “Why would you do that?  Do something _so_ stupid!  Why Stiles!” He slammed his hand on the counter in front of him fresh lines splintering out from his point of impact on the granite surface.  His brow furrowed, not even caring that he had just ruined his newly renovated kitchen that he had spent a small fortune on the now fractured countertops that just _had_ to be a natural stone per request of a certain someone.  He didn’t care. 

Because it didn’t matter, not anymore.

Because Stiles was staring back at him with a blank expression completely devoid of anything— completely devoid of everything and it was entirely his fault.

“I simply made a decision.  I decided that you being alive was more important at the time.”  It came out so flat, so casual, the contrast from his normal self sent chills down Derek’s spine, his gut churning.  It made him sick.  “I don’t understand why you’re so upset.  You are fine.  I am fine.”  Stiles gazed into Derek’s eyes, but there was nothing there, his eyes were cold, dark, nothing  left but the shell formally known as Stiles Stilinski talking to him.

“You are _not_ fine.”  Derek grit out pinpricks forming behind his eyes, as they burned crimson, his own emotions set aflame, something he had not felt since—since he was sixteen and stood before the freshly burnt husk of the house everything and everyone he loved gone forever. 

Derek has to fix this.  He just has to. 

Droplets of rain began to fall outside the Hale house as the sun dipped below the line of the trees in the surrounding forest, the torrents of rain falling outside nothing but a pall comparison to the turmoil inside.

 

* * *

 

“No.  You can’t have him.” Stiles stood firm.  As firmly as he could anyways, his heartbeat giving away the fear, the uncertainty of his answers, the only thing keeping him going was that this bitc—witch in front of him was no werewolf.  He _needed_ her to believe it.

The witch cackled, the high pitched sound causing Stiles to wince.  “Such a brave front you put up.  You have so much going on inside of there.” She pointed at his closely shorn head.  “So much pain, so much loss, so much misery.”

Stiles waivered for a second, he felt weird, his stomach churning fiercly at her words, the pain and loss of the past clawing at the surface of his conciousness for air.  He desperately tried to drown it.  “Shut up.”

“Oh, little one.” She cooed at him before letting loose another peircing laugh.  “But, that’s not all, is it?”  Flashing him a knowing smile, she turned her attention to Derek, strung up behind her, wolfsbane-laced ropes slicing into his wrists, a gag probably soaked in the poison forced between his cracked lips.  He was slipping in and out of consciousness by the way his eyelids flittered.  Stiles knew from experience, Stiles knew he needed to act fast.  Derek didn’t have much time left.  His heart jackhammered in his chest as he swallowed his throat suddenly far too dry to respond to the psycho.

“Yes, yes.  So much _love_.  It’s overbearing, how can you even stand it?” She smiled cheekily. 

Stiles flinched, his eyes flicking over to the dying werewolf.  In a way he knew exactly what she was talking about.  But now wasn’t the time to confront his feelings for his sourwolf, because if he didn’t act quickly, decisively, there would be no him to have feelings _for_. 

He stepped forward fronting as much courage as he could muster.  “Stop it.  Just stop it!  Now!” But the words left his mouth like ash scattered to the wind.  What could he do about it?  She was obviously powerful, powerful enough to overpower Derek without a receiving a scratch, and what could he possibly do against her?  How could he save Derek?  Stiles won’t lose him—he _can’t_ lose him.

The witch swooned in place.  “Does he even know?” Her expression bled into a smirk.  “No, I suppose he wouldn’t.  All of your pain isn’t strictly from loss now, is it?” 

Stiles ignored the pinching pain seemingly slicing his chest in two.  He knew he loved the stupid alpha it wasn’t even a question anymore, but he knew it was one sided, that there was just no way Derek could ever feel the same about him.  Stiles franticly fought the familiar burning stinging behind his eyes.

Derek’s eyes widened as he put together the bits and pieces that he was conscious for, but his heart rate was slowing, the poison slowly working its way into his system, destroying his very being from the inside out.  He groaned weakly into the gag, his entire body was on fire.

“God!  Would you just!” Stiles ripped at his shorn hair, wishing for a moment it was longer, just so he had something to pull at.  “Stop it!  I don’t know what you want!  I’ll give you anything!  Just please!  Stop it!  Let him go!” Tears were freely flowing down his face now; but he was too distraught to even notice as he lashed out at her.  “Why…” he found himself asking quietly the fight suddenly going out of him.  He was out of options.

 “I just needed a poor, tortured soul for my spell, strong emotions, you know?” Her cracked lips bending themselves into a bow below her crooked nose.  “His.” She pointed at Derek.  “You know _exactly_ how tortured his soul is.”

Stiles flinched at the knowledge; he knew exactly the weight Derek bore.  The loss, the pain, all the responsibilities he had now and especially the guilt.  The guilt because of Kate.  For Laura and Peter.  For turning a bunch of teenager’s lives upside down.

“Big bad over here is just _perfect._   He would supply me with an endless amount of energy.” She seemed overjoyed.

Stiles wanted to hurl.

“You’re _sick._ ” He spat.

The witch stopped as She raised a bony finger to her lips.  “How about, a deal then?” 

“Anything.” Stiles hated that he sounded so desperate.

“Your emotions—all of it, your very essence.  For him.”

“Done.”

“Do you even know what you’d giving up?  You’d just be a shell of a human, not even human in a sense.  In a sense you’d be giving up your soul, your ability to love.” She hissed.  “For an animal, no less.”

“Just do it already.”

“Why?” Her eyes narrowing with intrigue.

“You _know_ why.”

The witch cocked her head.

Stiles cursed under his breath, his gaze locking with Derek’s half lidded eyes.  “Because, I love him.” His voice cracked as he whispered it, but his heart beat endured solid.  He turned his gaze towards the witch.  “More than a _creature_ like you could ever know.”

“Perfect.”

Derek roared in protest from his bindings as he realized what was going on, what Stiles was offering—what he was giving up.  For him no less.  For Derek.  He struggled fruitlessly against his restraints to no avail, the slow chanting from the witch becoming louder as Stiles began to radiate light, his very essence put on display for all to see, his tender lips forming a perfect o as he was levitated off the ground.  The light was so brilliant, so warm and inviting.  Even in his dying state he felt warm and content—safe.  But just like that his light was gone, swallowed up by the witch disappearing in a blink of an eye, the echoes of her laughter reverberating off the damp walls of the abandoned warehouse as his bindings and gag dissipated into thin air the wolfsbane magically purged from his system in a blink of an eye.  He watched Stiles drop to his knees before crumpling to the ground, running frantically over to him, pulling the boy into his lap as he grasped his shoulder, gently shaking him.  He knew what he felt for the boy, no matter how much he denied himself, how much he buried his emotions.  The boy’s humor, his wit, his pure selflessness a beacon of light in the shit maelstrom that was his life.

“Stiles! Stiles!  God damn it _Stiles_!”

The younger boy’s head lolled back as his eyes cracked open.  “Derek.”

Derek could only nod, a smile spreading on his face.  Stiles was okay.  “Stiles—“ he didn’t’ know what to say.  He was so close now, close enough to—he leaned forward, his lips placed firmly on top of Stiles’s expressing his wants, his desires, his needs—his relief with his lips before a firm palm on his chest stopped him.

“Stil—“

“Derek, why are you kissing me?” Derek pulled back to gaze into the boy’s eyes his heart dropping into his stomach by what he saw.  Where life and excitement, glee and curiosity used to live was no longer there.  Even the chocolate depths of his eyes seemed to fade to an ashen hue in the dim yellow lighting of the warehouse.

“Stiles—“ Derek choked back a sob.  He knew exactly what was wrong with the boy.  He took the proverbial bullet for him right through his chest, something that even his werewolf healing couldn’t have healed.  He felt rage, anger, his eyes burned red as he let himself mourn the sacrifice of his comrade, his friend, his—

The entire building seemed to vibrate with grief as Derek’s somber howl pierced the night.

 

* * *

Derek has to fix this.  He just _has_ to.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry? Your heart, I know. *gets a band-aid* :3  
> If there's a strong enough response I may continue this (as suggested by Caristia)


End file.
